


draw back your bow

by abovetheruins



Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-03
Updated: 2010-05-03
Packaged: 2017-10-09 06:59:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/84295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abovetheruins/pseuds/abovetheruins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Cook and Archie are cupids.</p>
            </blockquote>





	draw back your bow

February 14th had kind of snuck up on him this year.

It's not like he didn't _know_ it was coming or anything, it just kind of... slipped his mind? Which was bad (really, _really_ bad), because this was his first February 14th as a full-fledged cupid.

And yeah, that? Completely nerve-wracking. It shouldn't be; after all, he's been studying for this day for years, has been practicing for as long as he can remember. This should be _easy_.

But oh, it's not. This isn't practice, this is _real_, and there are so many things that could go wrong. He could... he could miss! Or he could hit the wrong person and oh gosh, that would be a disaster.

He tries not to freak himself out (because if he's not one hundred percent focused on this, well, he doesn't want to think about what could happen) So he takes a deep breath, in and out, and reaches for an arrow (pink and topped with tufts of white feathers, which, ok, is kind of embarrassing, but Paula's the head cupid and what she says goes).

He pulls back on the string of his bow and takes careful aim. His target is sitting in a group of laughing (possibly inebriated) people a few yards from his perch, jean-clad legs dangling from the branch of a high oak tree. There's music, a man strumming a guitar while another sings (and it's beautiful, really, but he can't let himself be distracted). The dark-haired woman he's aiming for has her eyes on the singing man, and it's terribly easy to see the love in that gaze (so his first assignment is an easy one, which helps to settle his nerves a bit).

_Ok, Archie_, he thinks, closing one eye and feeling power thrum though his fingers. _You can do this. Just focus all of your attention on her, and-_ He lets the arrow fly, releases it with a sharp jerk of his fingers.

It flies toward his intended target with speed that no human eye can catch, and he holds his breath as it hits the small of her back. There's a satisfying _pop_ before it disappears in a cloud of red, swirling dust (he sighs; Paula and her theatrics)

He waits with baited breath as the woman jerks her head, fingers rubbing at the spot where the arrow connected (Archie knows it hadn't hurt her, no one actually _feels_ anything where they're shot). A grin pulls at his lips as she rises to her feet and moves closer to the duo, whose performance seems to be drawing to a close; it stretches into a full blown _beam_ as she sits beside the man she'd been watching. He can't hear their conversation from here, but both of them are smiling and laughing, and he considers it a job well done.

"Guess the rest is up to them, huh?"

Archie jumps and almost falls right out of the tree. A hand wraps around his arm and keeps him upright, and he turns around to glare at the smirking man standing on his branch.

"Oh my _gosh_, Cook, what are you doing? I could've _fell_." But Cook laughs as if that was never a real concern (and Archie's used to that, Cook laughing at him, though he's never sure what exactly is so funny).

Cook sits behind him, hanging his own bow and arrows (painted black and devoid of feathers whatsoever, of course; Cook was never really one to follow the rules) on the somewhat frail looking branch beside them. He slips his arms around Archie's middle and rests his scruffy chin in the crook of Archie's neck (and he was expecting that, really, but his nerves are still jumpy and he almost jerks himself out of the tree _again_).

He hears another laugh against the shell of his ear. "Calm down, Archie. You did good."

And Cook is completely laughing at him (again), but Archie ignores that. "Really?" he asks, his eyes drifting back to the pair below. Their faces are red and joyful (from the alcohol he knows is being passed around or love, he doesn't know), but they do look, above all else, _happy_, and Archie feels this huge bubble of pride burst in his chest (because he was able to help with that first push).

He lifts his head so that he can look at Cook's face, asks him, "So, you got yours too?" and Cook grins and nods, gestures to the couple below. He presses his hands flat against Archie's stomach and leans in, voice low and warm.

"That one," he says, pointing to the man, "is Michael. And yours, her name is Carly. Been crazy about each other for months."

Archie leans into Cook and rests his own hands on the older man's arms. "Just too afraid to make the first move, right?" _Like us_ is left unspoken, but he can tell by the grin Cook presses into his skin that the other cupid understands.

"Yup. But not anymore. Just look at 'em, Arch. Ready to jump right in."

Archie grins, thinks _because of us, because we were able to help_, and turns so that he can press a kiss to Cook's cheek.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Cook."

Cook grins. "Happy Valentine's Day, Archie."


End file.
